Fang Talks

Proper good slogan

As an amateur writer I sometimes like writing short, often single-part works. Here you’ll find the ones I chose to publish for whatever reason. Enjoy.

They ate the hearts of their prey, and over years, gained their powers.

To maintain a sustainable yield, they forbade eating anything but your own kill. This resulted in a clear hierarchy within their communities.

Youngster and unskilled hunters ate mostly gnomes, elves, and other low creatures. It granted them minor magic. Enough to be useful, too little to be efficient.

The skilled and aggressive would quickly rise up as they slayed packs of werebeasts, entire drow villages, and the occasional elemental. Some were foolish enough to consume ents, they never lived long after.

The eldest and most well-fed had obtained powers across the entire known spectrum, and beyond. They would duel with gods, eyes forever on the prize, but still lacked the lifespan to see it through. Cardiac arrest, for most, as if the powers had strained their hearts too far.

They would go there to die. To bask in the rays they had avoided all their lives, to experience something new for the very last time. Agony not enough to make them lose their smile, so certain they had come to the right place.

She saw a path through the woods. A new shortcut, one she hadn’t found before. She followed it, winding through the trees, let it lead her. Then, as suddenly as she had seen it, she couldn’t see it anymore. No clear way forward, no clear way back. The forest had lured her in, swallowed her whole. And now, digested her.

If you’re at the right place, at the right time, you might be able to send packets to it.
If you’re at the right place, at the right time, you might be able to receive packets from it.

At first, a network of accidents. Strangers seeing strangers’ messages, confused, unaware. Words taken out of context, taken for scams, threats.
Much later, some would catch on. Record, analyze, crack the pattern. They would chase the invisible network, to carve out their spaces on it, to make it their own. Connecting with enthusiasts, network nomads, lead by the ley lines.

Unprompted bonus round. It’s been a good month of content. Thanks for reading, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled diary-posting tomorrow.

Social bubbles are endless funnels. You can only go down, down, ostracizing more of your connections through hot takes and liking the wrong content. Eventually you find your niche, connecting only with two, maybe three others who have been excluded everywhere you have been. Eventually they too push you out, or you them. New people may drop in, but you can never seek them out. Any finger outside of your bubble gets torn off and thrown back in immediately. Other places are not for you.

“once you’re here, you can never leave”